


past and present both to grieve

by LovelyLessie



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1432825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyLessie/pseuds/LovelyLessie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A coda to the Battle of Windhelm, following Ulfric's defeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	past and present both to grieve

Afterwards she wandered the streets alone, shivering in the cold that settled in as twilight fell over the city. She kept her eyes on the stone below her feet, and when anyone approached she hurried past, unwilling to speak. 

She had hoped so desperately that they would come to their senses.

For these long two years she had hoped that they would come to their senses - that they would realize alone they stood no chance against the Thalmor - that they would surrender and end this awful war.

Well, the war was ended now! And both of them were dead, and lying on the cold flagstone floor of the Palace of the Kings, their souls bound for Sovngarde and Ulfric’s head bound for Cyrodiil as a trophy. When she closed her eyes she could see them, with their vacant, empty eyes staring up at her. 

The vision made her feel sick. She took a deep breath, feeling the cold air claw at her throat, and shook her head to clear it. 

Gods above, she might have changed this. Her heart ached at the thought: there might once have been something she could have done or said that could have changed all this. 

-*-

She found herself on the city wall, and it was there that General Tullius found her, looking out over the river as the moons rise over the mountains.

"Legate," he called, though she heard his footsteps heavy on the stone before he spoke.

"General," she replied, her voice low and dull.

"You’ve been missing all evening," he said. "The other soldiers are celebrating in the inn, and you’re out here in this blasted cold?"

Her hands curled into fists. “My apologies, sir,” she said, “but if you’ll permit it I’d really rather not talk now.”

"I hope you’re not trying to avoid your duties," he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. "There’s a lot to do if we want to establish order here; the next days will be busy for you."

"General Tullius," she said loudly.

He stopped speaking.

"Sir, you know my loyalty is as ever to the Empire," she told him. "And I understand perfectly well that Ulfric and Galmar were traitors, and had to die."

She took a shaking breath and swallowed.

"But I just watched two men who were once very close to me be put to their deaths," she continued in a trembling voice, "and with all due respect, sir, I beg you, for one night leave me in peace."

"A soldier shouldn’t get so sentimental about her enemies," he said severely. 

Her whole body was shaking now with the effort of keeping herself together, but she would not cry, not for them, not while he watched. “This soldier never mourned the men she loved,” she said. “But I don’t expect you would understand the difference.”

"You can have your time to mourn, Legate," he said. "So long as you’ll be ready to get back to your duties tomorrow - I’ll need you sharp and steady."

"Yes, sir," she agreed, and hears him turn and walk away.

A moment passed in silence, and she couldn’t maintain her calm demeanor any longer. She dropped to her knees, shoulders shaking, her head falling to her chest as the tears came.

For so long, she had refused to mourn the men she loved, for the sliver of hope that those men lived still inside the traitors that Galmar and Ulfric had become, and that at the end of it all they both might see the error of their ways and be again the way she had known them decades ago. For so long she had prayed that they might come around.

But here she was, all that vain hope crushed at last, and she was left alone to weep for them and to grieve their deaths, knowing why and wishing still that it could have, somehow, been different. 


End file.
